Working two jobs, but I'm still not making hardly any money. What I am making is a name for myself. A name that I'm finding to be hard to hear about. I just woke up about thirty minutes ago and it's been almost a year since I've put any of my thoughts into words; I notice how much more slowly these words are coming. This name, it's one of me living my life on what seems to be not a line but a boundless carousel riding down a set of train tracks on which the driver of this insane contraption has control over all of the switch points. Now, sure, it sounds like a world of fun. It is. I will vouch for you. But along this ride I can't help but catch up to a few slow-moving frieights, and they get mad when I occupy their track.
Enough of this cryptography.
Who do I think I am, a rapper or something?
What I'm saying is that I simply don't play by the rules.
I don't adhere to social standards.
My main goal in being this way is usually nothing more than to brighten some random mope's day, or to stand out from the crowd to some girl who I think is cute so that she'll think of me sometime later that day. I find this unorthodox state of being affecting the girls more so than the mopes, the mopes being less receptive to anything going on in life save whatever bad mood they're in. The trouble comes when a caustic mixture of the two gets stirred up by me trying to be more than what I am. The result? A bratty girl with a big mouth who has an instant hatred for my guts.
I thought this girl was cute. I was new to my place of work. I've been out and about enough in my life and have made just a big enough impression on everyone to warrant my name being remembered by I lot of people. A lot of people I don't know. It's weird. I haven't done anything. But sometimes I'll see
OH SHIT MY SOUPSBOILING OVER FUCK
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